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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236382">ponder the manner of things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor'>lethargicProfessor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Developing Friendships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Male-Female Friendship, Missing Scene, Team Bonding, World War II, i will fill up the bucky &amp; peggy &amp; commandos tag if it kills me, mentioned Michael Carter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:34:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,417</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peggy first insisted on being let out on the field, she had expected it to be marginally more exciting than a desk job. At times it was, but more often than not she found herself watching her boys and waiting.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Peggy and the Howling Commandos, and the moments in between.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Peggy Carter, Peggy Carter &amp; Howling Commandos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ponder the manner of things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The horrors of war have been described ad nauseum by men and women far more eloquent than Peggy Carter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>War is hell, war is death, war is suffering and barbarism and a madness few can hope to understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s all very well and good, and Peggy would agree, but what few have deemed to point out is that a large part of war seems to be just </span>
  <em>
    <span>waiting</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the anxious anticipation, sitting around camp until the right time to strike, killing time before the time to kill, so to speak. While she’s appreciative of the fact that her commanding officers have deemed her able to help - and she knows that, had it been anyone other than Colonel Phillips, she would have been assigned to a desk job permanently instead of being allowed on the field - she never planned for the sheer boredom of waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dugan and Falsworth always have a card game going, though Dugan isn’t particularly good at keeping a straight face, and Falsworth isn’t particularly good at poker in general, so joining in would be fun for only a round or two before they got sour. Morita takes any opportunity to nap, which she envies, but finds that she’s far too high-strung to manage any sleep while out in the open. Jones and Dernier spend most of their time in quiet conversation, and she knows Dernier enjoys having a touch of familiarity in their rapid-fire French. She hears their soft chuckles, catches bits of their conversation, and sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s Steve and Barnes, self appointed watchers over their flock of misfits. Steve’s been poring over the maps and notes for the mission despite the fact that she knows he’s memorised it all since before they left camp. It’s something to do, she supposes, though she wishes he would take the time to rest too. While Steve studies, Barnes watches, relaxed against the stump he’s taken claim to, rifle braced against him loosely. Any stranger observing the scene would assume he didn’t particularly care about the war going on, too at ease on the field, but she sees the sharpness in his eyes. War isn’t safe, but under the cover of moonlight with Barnes watching, she feels a touch better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watches the boys, the grandiose Howling Commandos, and snorts to herself before sighing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright, Peg?” Barnes asks, because he takes his job far too seriously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others glance up from their respective tasks out of reflex, and she feels herself flush for a second before remembering herself. She shoots them what she hopes is a reassuring smile, dismissing them. “Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bored with us already, Peggy?” Dugan laughs, and sets four of a kind down in front of a disgruntled Falsworth. “I could use a challenge, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A challenge for you isn’t necessarily a challenge for me, is it?” Peggy retorts, and feels something warm in her chest as the boys laugh, startling Morita out of his sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve offers the map to her, but she shakes her head, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness from sitting in one position for too long. “No thank you, dear, I think we’ve looked at those bloody things enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll listen to her but you won’t listen to me when i say the same thing, punk?” Barnes says, shoving Steve’s shoulder as he makes a move to pack the file up for the night. “I see how it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The group laughs again, and Barnes shoots Peggy a wink as Steve flushes red and sputters excuses. Despite their rocky start, her relationship with Barnes and the boys in general has improved exponentially since being allowed on the field. She cares for them deeply, and she hopes that they feel the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peggy fights a yawn and pulls her hair out of the braid she had set it in before leaving camp. It’s longer than it should be, regulation-wise, but she hasn’t had the time or the energy to get it taken care of, opting instead to rely on an excess of pins to keep her hair neat. There are far more important things to worry about than a trim, though she’s regretting putting it off with all the wisps that keep falling into her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mere,” Barnes says, setting this rifle aside, and it takes Peggy longer than she cares to admit to realize he’s talking to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprised, Peggy runs her fingers through her hair, making to wave him off, but he raises an eyebrow and gives her a look she’s seen several times during their missions but is still trying to decipher, making her sigh and give in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sits with her back against the stump, between his legs as he runs surprisingly gentle hands through the knots in her hair, pulling pins out as he goes, the sensation sending chills down her spine before she gets used to it. “You don’t have to,” she says as a token protest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need somethin’ to do anyways,” he mutters, separating her hair with practised ease. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dugan, who until this point has been idly shuffling his cards, whistles. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Sarge?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got sisters,” Barnes responds, and begins to braid Peggy’s hair. “You think I’m the kind of guy to say no to his kid sisters? Heartless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only ‘cause they’d cry until you did it,” Steve says, tossing a log into the crackling fire. “Then your ma’d get on your case for making ‘em cry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s how it is sometimes.” Barnes shrugs, deft fingers weaving through Peggy’s hair. It’s so relaxing, she’d almost forgotten what it had felt like, and she feels the tension seep from her shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t know,” Dugan grins, digging through his pack for the bottle of bourbon he’s been rationing for weeks. “I’m an only child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your folks probably had you and figured one was more than enough,” Barnes teases, pulling another round of laughter from the group. Dugan flips him off, but it’s all good-natured as he passes the bottle to his right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just have brothers,” Morita takes a swig of the offered bottle, grimacing at the taste before passing it on to Jones. “But a sister would have been nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jones listens to Dernier as he takes the bottle, squinting at the label absently before shrugging and taking a drink anyways. “Frenchie’s got two older sisters. I just have one. She’s still a baby though.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me,” Barnes says, tying off a neat french braid before sticking the pins back into the looser strands. “Soon as you get home? You’ll learn real quick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish I had a sister,” Falsworth says with a touch of bitterness. “My brother’s a pain in my neck. I’d trade him in a second if I could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have any siblings, Peg?” Steve asks, passing the bottle along to her once Dernier gets a swig. He takes a drink for posterity, but makes a pinched face at the taste.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had a brother,” Peggy murmurs into the bottle, taking her turn before holding it up to Barnes. “He was older, though he certainly never did my hair for me. He could have taken pointers from you, Barnes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He pass?” She hears Barnes hiss through the sting of the bourbon before reaching across from her, knees pressing into her shoulder to reach Falsworth. It’s not a heavy weight; Michael had certainly done worse when they were younger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At the beginning of the war, yes.” Peggy stares at the fire, letting her head drop against Barnes’ knee once he sits back. “He’s the one that got me into this mess, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was his name?” Falsworth asks, drinking deep from the bottle before handing it back to a scandalized Dugan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Michael.” The bourbon has left a rank taste in her mouth, but the warmth in her chest is a suitable distraction to the sudden swell of emotions. She misses him dearly, and wonders if he would have fit within this group of reckless, lovely boys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To Michael Carter,” Falsworth says, raising an invisible glass, and the boys toast to a man they’ve never met. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peggy laughs, raising her own imaginary glass, and fights the sniffles. “He would have loved you lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Course he would have. We’re charming as all hell.” Dugan grins, tossing a stick into the fire. “It’s why you love us too, right Peg?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, of course.” She responds as dryly as she can, but laughs anyways when the boys chuckle and share knowing looks. “That’s exactly why.”</span>
</p>
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